12/23/2013

I'm currently running one Swords and Wizardry game with a group of five veteran players, and about to start another with a less experienced group. Although I was initially enamored with S&W's spartan class choices (as opposed to some more of the bloated new school fantasy RPGs), I was awed by the fun presented by classes published on old school gaming blogs, and as such, have added them to my game (I've also thrown in two of my own so I can direct my players here during character creation). Check them out for all their original glory.

An (or the) oppression angel* is the planar servant of Myrwing, the deity of militant domination and greed (and, as with all fun pantheism gods, something random--birds of prey). They appear as a humanoid with a hawk's wing for a head, eagle's talons for breasts, and manacled chains made of red iron for arms. Oppression angels aid supplicants of Myrwing in protecting wealth amassed by might and in identifying those who would try to rob them. In combat, an oppression angels fire their manacle-arms at enemies, which then lock around necks, arms, or legs. While the angel itself can be killed, and the chains sundered, the manacles can only be removed by way of magic (such as Remove Curse**). This leaves would be vault-robbers marked so that the clergy of Myrwing can easily find them.Swords and Wizardry stats:

12/18/2013

In some village in La Mancha, whose name I do not care to recall, there
dwelt not so long ago a gentleman of the type wont to keep an unused
lance, an old shield, a skinny old horse, and a greyhound for racing...The Quixote is someone who has had too much free time to read those poisonous romance novels and listen to troubadours sing tales of chivalry and honor and courtly love. He envisions himself as the perfect knight-errant. His mind has become rattled, unable to separate reality from fantasy. Through blundering and buffoonery, the Quixote somehow manages to occasionally pull things through.

Requirements: Wisdom must be below 9Prime Attribute: Charisma 13+Hit Dice: 1d8 per levelArmor: AnyWeapons: AnySaving Throw: One better than the Fighter classExperience: As FighterAttacks: As Fighter Quixotic Points: Whenever the Quixote does something outlandish or idiotic in the name of chivalry, he gains a quixotic point. He can have at any given time a number of quixotic points equal to his level.Quixotic Combat: The Quixote can spend one quixotic point when in combat to blunder and accidentally aid himself and his allies. The action is determined by a d8 roll:
1 The Quixote trips over his own weapon, and in doing so, crashes into a foe. One enemy within melee range of the Quixote falls prone.2 The Quixote mistakes some inanimate, nonmagical object for a thing of evil, such as a giant or a dark artifact. If the Quixote can land an attack against it this combat, he strikes with such fervor that it is destroyed.3 The Quixote decides it necessary to rattle off some pseudo-philosophical nonsense to an enemy. As long as it can understand, the enemy loses it's next turn as it stares incredulously at the Quixote.4 The Quixote remembers reading about a similar foe in one of his books of chivalric romance. Although the information is completely wrong, if the Quixote spends one round prepping some unusual attack (such as coating a lance in butter, or swallowing gold coins), he gains a +5 bonus to hit and to damage as a result from the ensuing confidence. 5 The Quixote's ill-fitting helmet slips over his eyes, causing him to swing wildly. He can make three attacks this round, but at a -4 penalty.6 The Quixote stubbornly charges an enemy. If the attack hits, it deals double the normal damage. Regardless, the Quixote is unhorsed and knocked prone at the end of this attack.7 Whatever the enemy did last round has dishonored the Quixote's beloved. The Quixote rolls twice to hit against this enemy, and takes the better of the two options.8 The Quixote passes wind, loses his pants, unhorses himself, or something of equal un-grace. All enemies must spend each round laughing uncontrollably until they make a successful save.Addled: The Quixote automatically sees through all magical illusions--manipulating reality's appearance doesn't affect him because he's already trapped in the illusions of his own mind.Knightly Honesty: The Quixote cannot tell a lie, for to do so would be to go against the chivalric code. He holds everyone to this standard, and as such, always must take everyone at their word.Chivalrous Command (3rd): Once per day at third level, the Quixote can spend a quixotic point and make a chivalrous demand upon a Lawful creature that can understand him. That creature must make a save or be forced to uphold the demand (as per the spell Suggestion). If the creature succeeds at the save, the Quixote believes them to be upholding it. For example, if a Quixote demanded of a cleric of a Lawful deity to not sacrifice a maiden, and the creature fails the save, it cannot make the sacrifice. But if the cleric succeeds and sacrifices her, the Quixote might think that the Cleric had tripped and accidentally slit her throat, or might "realize" that the maiden was a demon in disguise.

This class was inspired by Zak Sabbath's Alice class (they're both literature-based, I guess?)

12/09/2013

Here's a thing I wrote a while back for DiceSoup, so that explains the more formal format and the lack of naughty words.

Controlled Anarchy: Power to the Players

If
traditional games were a nation, The UN would be on them like butter on toast.
The distribution of creative control is a tyrannical system: nearly all of the
game world’s creative control rests in the hands of the greedy, clawed hands of
the ruthless GM.

Okay, so
it’s not that dramatic. But
traditional games are certainly designed to give the most control to the GMs.
Players have control over their characters (through character creation,
backstory, and in-game decisions) as well as the immediate environment their
characters can affect (whether it be by moving it, killing it, or magical force
bolts at it). This system of power can be fun, but it gets really fun when we
allow some of that creative power to trickle down to the players. When players
create something, they are more likely to interact with it, and therefore be
more interested in the game. This in turn makes your job easier, which makes a
better game over all! In short:

Giving
players power doesn’t mean tearing the role of GM down. This can be done by
handing out little “power nuggets” to players, using many different techniques.
So turn on your Rage Against the Machine, ‘cause we’re about to tear down this
tyrannical establishment and stick it to the man. Let’s have some anarchy!

Disclaimer: These techniques require trust
in your players. One reason why many traditional games limit the control
the players have over the world at large is the desire to maintain a challenge.
The thought is, if players have world control, they’ll just poof in a treasure
chest full of vorpral swords or do some other game breaking action. This has
the same effect as “god modes” in video games: it’s a blast for the first
fight, sort of fun for the second, and then by the time the third fight comes
around, you’re missing the challenge.

Like all
problems, this can be solved with communication. Explain your expectations to
the players. Tell Grabak the Barbarian you’d prefer if he didn’t create an army
of Gundams to use. Then trust your players to respect your expectations. Don’t
say no unless it’s hurting the game experience. If they toe the line, explain
how and why their actions are hurting the game (they may not even be aware),
and ask them not to do so. The worst case scenario is you have to say “No,
sorry, you can’t do that.” You’ve got nothing to lose.

Apocalypse World Rules: Disclaim
Decision-Making

Nobody would
know how to empower players better than the story game community. If you
haven’t already MCed (the game’s term for Gamemasters) Vincent Baker’s story game Apocalypse
World, do yourself a favor and do so. That game’s structure for GMing has
been a great influence on my own style. One of the game’s MC guidelines is of
particular use to us here: occasionally
disclaim decision-making. In Apocalypse World, this means that sometimes
when a player asks, “Are there chandeliers in the Great Hall?” you should
respond with “Are there? You tell me.”

This gives
the player a creative input into the game beyond what they usually have. Of
course, a player could abuse this, but we’re going to trust them not to, because the results are awesome. If a player
asks if there are any chandeliers in the Great Hall, it's probably because
they're about to do some sweet shit with it. Let them have it. Let’s do a comparison:

Option 1:
Decision-making disclaimed

Player: “Are
there chandeliers in the Great Hall?”

GM: “Are
there? You tell me.”

Player: “Uh,
okay, yes, there are. Can I jump onto one from the balcony, swing across, and
then interrupt the king’s speech by skewering him with my rapier from above?”

GM: “Sure.”

Option 2:
Lame

Player: “Are
there chandeliers in the Great Hall?”

GM: “Nope.”

Player:
“Huh, okay. I guess I’ll just shot him with my bow.”

I hope I
don’t have to explain which of these the better option is. This technique can
be used for anything: environments (like above), social interactions (“Is he
lying? You tell me.”), historical clarifications (“He might have an
illegitimate heir, what do you think?”), and more. Disclaiming decision-making
works best when it’s used relatively sparingly and used in ways that give the PCs toys to play with.

Player-Drawn Maps

If you play
a game that using miniatures and maps for battle, allowing your players to draw
out battle-maps is one of the easiest ways to give players a taste of the
sweet, sweet nectar of creative control. Briefly explain the general contents
of the map (“It’s a town square,”) and any features that are needed (“so there'll need to be buildings, and there’s probably like a fountain or something
too”), then give the players the markers and sit back: prepare your notes, get
a drink, nod off, or whatever you like. Meanwhile, the players will create for
you an interesting map. In all the times I’ve done this, I’ve never been
disappointed with a blank map.

In fact, most often, players are going to
include something extra to give them an advantage. And that’s totally okay. If
a player creates a terrain feature, they are nearly certain to interact with
it. It’s far more interesting for Grabak to push down rotten trees on top of
the goblins than for him to walk up to the and whack them with repeatedly with
his greatsword.

Player Controlled Monsters

Dave tipped me
on to the awesomeness of this one in a custom critical hit charm for magic against zombies (Dave’s secretly a gaming anarchist too, he just doesn’t know it yet). One of
the results on the magic hit table allowed the caster to take control of a
zombie, and basically use it as a puppet. When I read that, I was instant
enamored. Fewer monsters for the GM to control, more fun for the players to
have. This can be done in-game, like Dave’s example above, or out-game, where
you just hand the players sheets for the monsters.
This doesn’t have to be an all or nothing, either. You could say that goblins
are indecisive and bad tacticians, so one turn the players will control them,
and another turn the GM will.

Let’s Start a Revolution

These are,
of course, just a few methods to break down the tyrannical distribution of
power in traditional games. As you use these, others will develop, and soon
you’ll have full blown anarchy on your hands! (Okay, hopefully not. But you
will have fun, enriched gaming.) Do you use any techniques like these to play
with the power distribution in your game? If so, let the world know! Leave a
comment below describing how you stick it to the man!